The Long Walks
Now that the rains of August have passed
there are the long walks into autumn,
the even longer leavetakings with the dead,
the ever lengthening shadows,
the unimaginable apotheoses of late flowering plants,
the off and on worrying over winter, over did I forget,
the downward tendency to tomorrow,
and, for now, fictive inextricable solace in the now and then
distant and haunting while, yet, indifferent
sound of a solitary and what might
possibly be
the season’s last cricket.
Frank C. Praeger is a retired biologist who lives in the Keweenaw which is a peninsula that juts out from the northwest corner of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan into Lake Superior. His poetry has appeared in various journals in both UK and USA.